


Addendum

by Ruenis



Series: Forget-me-not [3]
Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fae & Fairies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 04:30:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8087206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruenis/pseuds/Ruenis
Summary: Once upon a time, a faery and a prince promised each other happy ever after.





	

**Author's Note:**

> noun  
> a. an item of additional material, typically omissions, added at the end of a book or other publication

Frowning somewhat as he gazes at the book before him, Slaine finds himself both perplexed and frustrated at the odd looking characters written on the pages. Beside the characters are more characters that look similar to the basic Latin alphabet, but with a little more flare and oddities – he has no problem reading these ones, used to writing and reading in this language. A parchment with small, elegant characters rests beside the book, as well as a jar of black liquid.

All he wants to write are two basic sentences. Just two. ' _I am going to be gone for three days_ ' and ' _Do not wander the forest alone_ '.

But he is finding it difficult, and blames the country's language for being so hard to use. He has already finished writing half of the first one – ' _I am going to be_ ' – and is currently looking for the next part to translate. Gently brushing the end of the feathered quill against his cheek, Slaine's frown turns into a glare, and his grip on the quill tightens.

Normally, he would not even bother with something as annoying as this. But since _that person_ is so _stubbornly determined_ to see him each and every day, he has to make sure the prince does not do anything stupid while he is gone. _Thankfully the others will be gone as well.._ he thinks to himself, _But still.. if he wanders somewhere he isn't supposed to.. That could be very dangerous._

And thus, he _has_ to write this letter, no matter how infuriating it is.

 

 

 _Damn letter.._ Slaine thinks, trying to drag the letter along with him. It feels a bit heavier now that he is barely taller than the average human finger, and the wind does not help when it waves the parchment around along with his tiny frame. _Damn wind._

He is _annoyed_. Going out of his way to do this..

 _At least the castle isn't very big_. He has visited before when the empress requested an audience a few years back. The castle has not seemed to change in the least, other than who sleeps in what room, given the change in staff over the years.

Wings fluttering quietly, Slaine tries to stick close to the ground, dragging the letter just above the grass. He _could_ attempt to walk around normally, but the guards would be able to see him easier.. _And I don't really want to deal with them, even if they are incompetent,_ Slaine muses, smirking somewhat. Inaho's guards are _odd._ They are good at their job when it comes to protecting the citizens and keeping order in town, but when it comes to watching their prince.. they seem to somehow fail in that area, _have_ failed each time he manages to escape unseen.

 _Which window is his..?_ he wonders, frowning slightly as he gazes upward. Despite having visited before, he had not met or seen the brunet until he wandered into the forest a few months ago. He knew the prince existed – Yuki made that much _very_ clear when she kept gushing over him – but he has no idea where Inaho's room might be. Pulling the letter up with him, he tries to keep it out of the moonlight, trying to avoid being caught. It gently scratches at the wall, the pointed end creasing as he drags it upward. He lays it down on a windowsill, peeking into a window.

This room is empty, and does not even have furniture or a bed in it.

“Damn it,” Slaine hisses, groaning softly in frustration. He will have to try the next one.

 

 

Thirteen windows later, Slaine breathes a sigh of relief upon _finally_ seeing Inaho sound asleep in his futon. It had taken him almost an hour, dragging the letter and flying around to each window. _What a pain this was.._ He frowns slightly and softly blows on the window's lock, pulling it open as best he can afterward. It swings open slowly, and he makes a big enough gap for his tiny frame and the letter to slip through. He pushes the folded parchment ahead of him, letting it drift slowly to the floor, and then lets himself fall along with it. His feet meet the floor soundlessly, though he nearly slips when the parchment slides with his added weight.

“Ah..” He regains his composure, and uprights himself, using his wings to balance himself. He picks up one corner and drags it across the floor, walking toward Inaho's futon. It looks _gigantic_ compared to normal, and with the blanket all tousled, it forms small hills. “He breathes loudly..” he mumbles to himself, though he knows it only sounds so loud because he is so small. Slaine pulls the parchment over the futon and blanket, and sets it down behind Inaho's head. He pushes it into the corner, so that if Inaho were to move, he would not crush it. The pillow barely deflates under the faery's practically nonexistent weight, and Inaho does not move, not even able to hear or feel Slaine moving about.

For a second, just a second, Slaine considers waking the brunet up. _Teasing him would be fun.._ he thinks to himself, _But if he woke up and saw me.._

That would take the fun away. He has been purposely keeping Inaho in the dark about what he can actually do with his magick and what he normally looks like.

He disregards the thought, leaving Inaho alone.

_I'll see him in three days. He'd better behave himself._

* * *

 

“Ah!”

The gasp is quiet, startled.

“His highness!”

Familiar. That voice is familiar.

“He's returned!”

So is that one. That one is feminine.

Groaning softly at the voices, Slaine slowly opens his eyes in the dim, faintly glowing light. The world is blurry, dizzying, and faery lights swim around in his vision, shining in various colours; they hurt to look at. Three figures are standing over him, and Slaine can make out what seems to be one face that is more familiar than the others. He sits himself up slowly, resting his hands on the cool grass, nails lightly digging into the dirt. “A-ah..”

 _That hurts.._ He tries to blink back a small headache, tries to ignore the ringing in his ears, _I haven't been here in awhile.. my body needs to adjust.._

“Your highness..?” a voice calls. This one belongs to one of the more familiar faces.

Slaine manages to raise his head, blurry vision able to discern a mess of black hair and dark, navy blue eyes. “Harklight..” he murmurs, immediately regretting speaking seconds later. A wave of nausea comes over him, and he doubles over, starts to cough into his hands. The coughs are violent, now, leave him unable to breathe between them, leave his eyes teary-eyed from pain.

“Your highness!”

Slaine feels someone gently grasp his shoulders, trying to keep him still, and someone else run away.

“I'll be right back with help, your highness!” the voice says, drifting away as their footsteps start to fade out.

“Is he alright..?” the feminine voice asks, and Slaine feels a hand in his hair, “Your highness, please calm down..”

Slaine's vision falters, and he slowly pulls his hands away from his lips. His hands are shaking when he looks at them, covered in dozens of petals, layered upon each other, covered in some sort of sticky.. –

“E-eh..?”

His heart rises to his throat. The usually blue forget-me-not petals are dyed crimson red.

 _This is what she meant by harmful,_ he realises, swallowing a few of them. They taste like sweetened iron, now. Disgusting.

“Your.. highness..?”

Slaine raises his head again, teal fixing to worried, wide navy blue. “Harklight,” he repeats, voice shaky.

 _That's right,_ he recalls, _Last time I was here, it wasn't this bad.. I was able to hide it.._

Harklight frowns, visibly worried for the young blond. He does not remove his hands from Slaine's shoulders, keeping him steady, preventing him from falling over or swaying. “What happened, your highness?”

“I..” Slaine swallows again, another mouthful of tainted iron, “Please take me to the castle. I need to speak with the empress.. I'll tell you when we arrive.”

Harklight slowly releases the blond, and helps him up instead, with the help of the female faery. “.. of course,” he says after a moment, “Let's bring him to the castle, Elfa.”

“Y.. yes, sir!” the blonde says quickly, very gently holding one of Slaine's arms, “Please try to stand upright, your highness. We'll bring you back as safely as we can.”

“.. thank you,” Slaine manages, breathing out shakily, “Thank you..”

 

 

 _“Your highness was cursed?”_ Harklight asks, utter shock in both his voice and on his face. His navy blue eyes are wide as he gazes at Slaine, watching as he takes small sips from a copper cup.

“.. yes,” Slaine says after a moment, pulling the cup away from his lips. He frowns a bit at the cup, dislikes it, a childish aversion to the orangish colour; the taste of the fruit is too sour for him, and he has come to associate the sour taste with the colour. Now, he finds orange too bright for his liking. Exhaling shakily, he tries to flush out the horrid taste of his own sweetened blood. The petals used to taste sweet, but they lost that taste a few days ago. Now, the bittersweet, odd taste mixes with blood and it is _revolting._ “I was cursed to cough up forget-me-not flower parts,” he murmurs, taking another sip of the nectar that fills the cup. He probably should not be drinking it; it is practically pure sugar, but right now, it is the only liquid that will wash away the horrid taste in his mouth. He had spit up water a few minutes ago, it having tasted _unbearable,_ mixed with the blood-covered flower petals.

“By whom?” Harklight asks, gaze lingering on the young blond. His hands rest behind his back, just under his wings, which are folded together, and a frown adorns his face.

“A.. human,” Slaine answers after a moment, “An old human woman whom I believed was lost in the woods.” He shifts on his cushion, kneels under him.

Harklight glares, then, hands balling into tight fists. He has been Slaine's aide for _years_ now, but when Slaine's visits turned less and less recent to the realm, their communication with each other has turned nearly nonexistent. Now, all Harklight knows is Slaine spends endless amounts of time with the human prince, Inaho Kaizuka, who is _infatuated_ with him.

Thinking about the fact is more than enough to make his blood boil. This _boy_ , a mere _human_ with _absolutely no knowledge_ about Slaine or faery-kind, had managed so easily to steal his attention the moment Slaine's visits turned obsolete.

“Does this have anything to do with that human boy who never leaves your side?”

“ _No_ ,” Slaine answers, too quickly, voice too firm, too defencive. He realises his mistake seconds later, and his gaze slips as he clears his throat. “This has nothing to do with him,” he says with a slightly more even, calm tone, “Forget about the prince.” His thumb traces the edge of the cup, and his gaze slowly rises to meet a blonde's. “Your majesty..”

“Please, Slaine, call me by name.”

“.. Asseylum,” Slaine says hesitantly, gaze slipping from her green eyes and back to his cup once more. “About.. the ball tonight..” That is the only reason he is here, after all. The three day affair is important.

“You don't have to attend if you aren't feeling well,” Asseylum says immediately, shaking her head. She has a concerned, yet gentle look on her face, and she reaches forward somewhat, placing her hands over his, “Just know that we are working to help you. You won't have to deal with this for much longer.”

Slaine blinks at that, teal eyes widening in surprise. “Really?” he asks, lighting up. He speaks with her semi-regularly, despite his attendance having falling to a new low, but she has not mentioned such a thing before. _If.. if she can find a cure for me.. then perhaps that will also cure him.._ he realises, relieved, now. He will no longer have to deal with the human prince's proposals.

“Really,” Asseylum beams, “Now, I have to go get ready, but if you're feeling better, then we can speak more in a few hours, alright?” She squeezes Slaine's hands once more before pulling away, gathering her dress as she slowly stands up.

Why she wears such long gowns with her _four_ wings versus Slaine's two interfering with her clothing choices is a mystery. Her wings resemble a butterfly's, though are not connected where the top wing and bottom wing usually touch, and are a bit longer. Because of the way the wings are positioned on her back, everything she wears must be backless.

Slaine watches her for a moment, understanding that the young empress wishes to dress her part, but is curious as to why her gowns must hinder her normal movement. “I.. I'll see you tonight, probably,” he says, earning another encouraging smile.

“I'll see you tonight, then, Slaine,” Asseylum says, starting to walk toward the door. “Good evening, Harklight. Please take care of him.” She lets herself out and quietly shuts the door behind her, leaving the blond alone with a slightly upset Harklight.

Slaine brings the cup to his lips again, and takes another few sips, the bittersweet taste in his throat finally starting to disappear.

“Your highness?”

“Y..” Pulling the cup away, Slaine licks his lips, frowning a bit at the metal taste that still coats them. “Yes?” he asks, raising his head just enough to meet the young man's navy eyes.

“Does that boy truly have nothing to do with your affliction?”

Slaine drops his gaze, fingertips turning a light red as his grip on the cup tightens. “No,” he answers after a moment, “He has nothing to do with my current condition.”

A lie.

And both of them know it.

 

 

“It isn't necessary to choose my clothing, Elfa,” Slaine tells the blonde, though she only shakes her head in response and continues to go through Slaine's closet for him.

Most of the clothing inside is primarily blue, and are all rather similar. The outfits that Elfa are looking at all have longer sleeves of varying lengths – past the hand, and stopping at the wrist – given that is is much cooler in the faery realm than in the human one. The faeries themselves are the cause of the difference, their magick keeping the human world a bit warmer to allow a slightly more comfortable lifestyle there. Here, they have all the commodities that they need, and the extra chill in the air is nothing to be upset about.

Slaine watches the blonde sift through the outfits from his bed. He has been instructed by both her and Harklight to take it easy, and has only been allowed to take a bath by himself. They have been assisting him with everything else, despite his protests.

“ _You haven't been here in awhile, your highness,”_ they had said, _“Please take some time to rest.”_

And so rest he shall. He dislikes them working any harder than they have to, even if they _want_ to, but the bout of coughing earlier really has worn him out. “.. Elfa,” he calls, causing her to turn her head slightly.

“Yes, your highness?”

“Will Lemrina also be at the ball tonight?” he asks curiously, earning a small, polite smile.

“No, your highness. She is visiting the northern realm and will not return for some time,” Elfa answers as she shakes her head. She pulls out an outfit, this one dyed an off-shade of white and accented with rose-coloured thread and embroidery. It only consists of a simple halter top with a long-sleeved jacket, both tops cut in a way that Slaine's lower back and stomach will still be exposed, and pants. “I believe Lady Lemrina is not due to return for a few months,” she continues, holding the outfit in front of her, “What about this one, your highness? You will match her majesty if you wear this one, tonight. I believe you also have a pair of boots that would match this one.”

“Erm..” Slaine hesitates, glancing at his feet. He _detests_ having his feet covered, whether it be by shoes, socks, cloth, or wrappings. “Is it necessary I wear shoes?”

Elfa smiles again, though this one is more understanding. “Her majesty will be wearing heels tonight, but I don't believe your height will pose a problem. The boots are not necessary,” she says, setting the outfit down on the bed beside the blond. She smooths it, trying to keep it crease-free despite the fact that Slaine will be wearing it in about fifteen minutes. She pulls away after a moment, her wings fluttering in content – they are nearly the same as Slaine's: near-translucent and shiny.

“I'd prefer not to wear them,” Slaine murmurs, gaze meeting the blonde's orange-pink eyes. “You're dismissed. Are you and Harklight going to be attending the ball as well?” he asks, starting to pull his chosen clothing off of a small silver hanger.

“We are, your highness. You can expect to see us later in the night,” Elfa answers, curtsying politely, “I shall take my leave.”

Smiling a bit at that, Slaine watches the blonde leave, and sighs softly when he is finally alone in his room.

 _They worry too much,_ he thinks to himself, pulling off his plain vest, _I'm going to be fine._

 

 

“Tired?”

“No,” Slaine says honestly, shaking his head, “I..” He sighs as he gazes at the empress, their hands loosely cupped together. The ball began hours ago, and though he has been dancing nearly the whole time, he is not fatigued in the least.

“Are.. you thinking about Prince Inaho?” Asseylum asks, a small smile on her lips. Her green eyes flicker upward to watch as Slaine's cheeks darken almost instantly at the question, and his teal eyes widen in shock.

Slaine starts to shake his head again, insisting, “N-no! Wh.. why would I think of him? He's done nothing but harass me for _months_!” Thankfully, his voice is still low enough that the other guests do not hear him, but the words come out too loud for his own ears.

The question of Inaho manages to fluster him without fail, even when Asseylum asks about him in their letters.

Giggling softly, Asseylum only nods, though it is clear that she, too, does not believe him when it comes to the topic of the human. “How is he? Fine, I hope.”

“He's a _nuisance_ ,” Slaine mumbles, “He – he believes he's in _love_ with me. Can you believe that? I've had to put up with him proposing nearly every day for _months_ and it's downright _exhausting._ ” And, despite him saying that, there is an unmistakable tone of almost _amusement_ in his tone.

No doubt, this is the most fun he has had in awhile.

“If you married him, it would bring our two races together,” Asseylum points out innocently.

Slaine gapes, stopping momentarily. “He.. he doesn't know who I am,” he says slowly, shaking his head, “He has no idea that I – he isn't aware of my title. If I told him.. that would just reinforce his determination to get me to agree..”

“You mean.. he doesn't know you have the same social status?” Asseylum asks, looking surprised.

“We don't,” Slaine says quickly, shaking his head, “We.. we don't have the same status. He was born of royal stature, just like you, but I.. My title was a _gift_.”

“Even so, you _earned_ that title. I did not give it to you for no reason. The fey respect you. They trust you. They are happy to call you their prince,” Asseylum says firmly, frowning a bit at the older faery. Tightening her grip on Slaine's hand, she pulls him a bit closer, listening to him gasp in surprise.

“Assey–..”

“You are Prince Slaine, and though you may not have as much power as I, we rule over our people together, as a joint monarchy,” Asseylum continues, voice too soft, too gentle, too kind. She firmly believes in the blond, firmly believe that they do a good job together, that he _did_ indeed earn his title through all his hard work.

Slaine's heart catches in his throat.

Then, the empress smiles a bit, and relaxes her grip, green eyes catching careful teal. “If you _did_ marry Prince Inaho, it would be of great benefit to both humans and the fey.. But I would never order you to marry someone you weren't _interested_ in,” she says, shaking her head, “I'm just asking you to keep in mind that your social status is on the same level as his. There is absolutely no need to feel inferior.”

Slaine blinks at her smile, feeling as if she is leaving something out. He decides to change the subject before he dwells too much on the issue. “About.. what you said before,” he says slowly, taking a few steps backward, “That I won't have to deal with.. _this_ for much longer.. What are you saying..?”

“Ah,” Asseylum nods as she follows his lead. Her heels click softly against the polished tile, while Slaine's feet barely make a sound, and the rest of the dancers' movements are mostly quiet, the hall filled with chatter and soft music. “I've been able to research about your condition, and I've learnt that you are already on the way to recovery. Just keep acting as you've normally been, and you will be fine,” she explains, smile softening as her demeanour switches from playful back to kind.

“That's.. all?” Slaine asks, pleasantly surprised, “I'm not required to do anything? To take any herbs or supplements?”

“That isn't necessary,” Asseylum answers, shaking her head. “Just continue to act normally. The harmful effects should disappear soon.”

Slaine beams at that, and releases one of the blonde's hands to twirl her; he gently holds her by the waist when she turns to face him again, grinning at her. “Thank you, your majesty,” he says, tone soft, sincere, “Really.”

Smiling back warmly, the young empress shakes her head a bit, pulling Slaine's hands from her waist to grasp them in her own. “It was no issue at all, Slaine. Your recovery is all thanks to yourself,” she says softly, squeezing his hands, “You should be fine within a week or so.”

Slaine breathes a sigh of relief, nodding. “When I'm cured, I shall be sure to come and tell you in person.”

“I'd like that very much.”

* * *

 

The following morning, Slaine is awoken by rough, painful coughs that have him scrambling toward the ornate bathtub that sits beside a screen in the corner of his room. He coughs violently into his hand, trying to shove the sheets aside with his free hand, and stumbles over weakly to the tub.

He would much rather dirty tile and stone than make more work for Harklight and Elfa by sullying the sheets and bed with bloody flower petals. Tile and stone, at least, is easier to clean.

_It hurts to breathe._

Slaine coughs hard into his hand as he leans against the tub, flower petals and blood slipping through his fingers and staining malachite.

The crimson contrasts too much with the veridian. It looks _wrong_.

The blond reaches for the tub's knob, clumsily turning it just enough to allow the water to drip on his bloodied hand, cleansing the forget-me-not petals of their red hue. He coughs against his arm, staining cream with dark crimson, petals and blood sticking to his skin like honey and sap.

 _It hurts to breathe,_ he thinks again, his insides constricting, twisting. They feel like as if they are being pulled on, and his chest hurts when he breathes, heart stinging. His throat hurts, clogged with blood and petals and _it really hurts to breathe._

 

 

 

Slaine awakens to something cool on his head, the room dim, ill-lit, and something heavy lying on his body.

“Your highness?”

Turning his head slightly, the blond finds himself gazing at a worried looking Harklight, who is seated in a chair beside him. “Hark.. light..?” he murmurs, words too soft, his throat aching. He does not taste blood anymore, nor is his throat clogged up. _I'm in bed.._ he realises, head against a cotton ball pillow, a heavy blanket of woven fibers and soft sheep's wool.

“Your highness was unconscious,” Harklight says quietly, leaning forward a bit. When he pulls away, Slaine notices a small towel in his hands, damp and dripping a bit of water. “Elfa and I found you beside the tub when we came to see you this morning,” he says, lowering his tone even further. He rings the water out beside him, and Slaine can hear it drip into something with more water.

It sounds nice. It sounds familiar. Water on water. It helps the ache in his head a bit, allowing him to relax.

Eyelids heavy, Slaine allows them to slip shut, too drowsy, too weak to keep them open. He felt fine, last night, even after yesterday morning's incident.

“We found you with a fever, your highness,” Harklight says, and his voice sounds quiet, far away, despite him sitting only about a foot away from Slaine's ears.

The water continues to drip, nice, quiet, familiar, and then Slaine hears something being submerged underwater. Then, he hears the dripping again, water on water, then water on his skin, and then something cold on his forehead.

It takes a moment to register. _The cloth._

“You're excused from the ball tonight,” Harklight murmurs, frowning a bit as he gazes at his young charge. “You.. coughed up enough flower petals to clog the drain, your highness. The tub and you both were..” he trails off upon hearing Slaine's breathing even out, hearing it go near-silent once more. _He fell back to sleep,_ he thinks, relieved. Getting up slowly, he picks up a silver, water-filled thimble as he slides the chair backward, and inspects the water. It is a reddish hue, dyed from when he had cleaned up Slaine's arm and face. He has not had a chance to dump it out until now, having wanted to wait until the blond woke up and he knew he was alright –

– well, as alright as he can be in his current condition. The coughing has stopped, and that is all that matters at the moment.

Harklight pushes his chair away from the bed, moving it behind it just in case Slaine wakes up and decides to get up. He walks over to the bathtub, footsteps practically silent against the tile; like Slaine, he prefers not to wear shoes. He dumps the water from the thimble into the bathtub, watching as it easily disappears down the drain now that the flowers clogging the plug have been removed. Elfa removed them hours ago, and had also cleaned up the tub's edge and sides of blood, as well as the floor where Slaine had been sitting.

He _knows_ this has something to do with that human boy. Why Slaine will not just admit it, he has not the slightest clue. It has never occurred to him that Slaine may actually _care_ for the human, given the blond's apparent lack of interest in romance and relationships.

But.. if Slaine _were_ interested in this human boy..

“ _No,_ ” Harklight mumbles to himself, voice too firm, too harsh.

Their prince, marrying that _human_ boy?

_Unacceptable._

_Impossible._

Harklight dislikes the prince. Immensely.

He had heard a rumour that the prince surrendered rule to his sister when he was a child, heard that he had no interest in it and thought his sister better suited to the task, anyway. What kind of prince would willingly give up a throne just because they had no interest in it?

And so, if talks were brought up about their prince-consort marrying that _terrible excuse of a prince_ , Harklight would be vehemently against it.

 _His highness deserves better than that,_ he tells himself, setting the thimble back down near the chair. He moves the other one next to it to avoid a potential spill, though now that he looks at him again, it does not seem that Slaine will be waking up anytime again today; his fever was rather high, especially since his body temperature is naturally higher than most fey.

 _Either way.._ The black haired faery starts to walk toward the door, ready to switch out with Elfa, _His sickness is that person's fault._

* * *

 

Unlike the human world, the faery realm does not have a 'daytime'. They have a fifteen hour dusktime, the realm showered in a dim, orange-pink most of the time, and a nine hour nighttime for their dances and parties. And so, when Slaine finally wakes up, he is a bit confused when he finds himself gazing upward at a _still_ dimly lit room. He feels rested, as if he has slept for a long time, and does not understand why it is still..

_Oh.._

It hits him seconds later.

“This.. isn't the human realm..”

The words come out easy, though soft.

He blinks in slight surprise, fingers rising to his throat; it does not ache anymore, does not burn, and his lips do not taste of bittersweet metal. Sitting up slowly, he absentmindedly traces his fingers along his neck, skin feeling a bit too warm. He barely remembers Harklight telling him he had a fever, recalls falling asleep almost immediately after the comment.

When the door starts to swing open, Slaine finds himself gazing at it, waiting for whomever it is to come in.

A surprised Elfa greets him.

Elfa bows slightly in the doorway, carefully balancing a pillow with a silver circlet in her hands and something blue and silver hanging on her arm. “Your highness is finally awake,” she says, raising her head after a moment, “How are you feeling? Is your fever gone?”

“I.. believe it is, yes,” Slaine says, gazing at the familiar silver thing. He rarely wears it, usually only has it on for three occasions during the year: the third day of Empress Asseylum's ball, Christmas, and his birthday. Now that he has seen the human prince wearing one, he is a bit reluctant to wear it tonight. He gazes at the blue hanging on her arm, and realises that they are clothes. “Are those my clothes?”

“They are if you feel well enough to participate tonight,” Elfa says, setting the pillow down on the end of the bed. She sets the garments down beside them, a long-sleeved jacket dyed in varying shades of blue, and matching pants. Both parts have a sort of silver filament decorating them, as well as silver thread.

Slaine nods a bit, gazing at the blonde, “I feel well.”

He manages a small smile, relaxing a bit. Today is the last day of the ball, and when it is over, he will be able to return to his home in the human realm and the other faeries will not have to worry any longer. In the human realm, at least, there is only one person he has to worry..

“Then I shall see you soon, your highness. I hope you like the clothing I have chosen for you,” Elfa says softly, curtsying this time; with her hands free, she is able to properly show respect.

“I'll be seeing you, Elfa,” Slaine returns, nodding somewhat, “Please enjoy the evening.”

 

 

 

Beaming up at the older blond, Asseylum gently grips Slaine's hands in her own, her usual way of showing affection or joy. Tonight, she is showing both. Her feet are barely touching the ground, wings fluttering excitedly, bringing her nearly eye-level with the other. “I'm so glad you weren't ill tonight, Slaine,” she hums, “Did you have a nice time? Were you able to eat and drink? Elfa and Harklight tell me you were not able to eat yesterday.”

“Erm.. yes..” Slaine says slowly, nodding a bit. “I'm sorry for worrying you..” he says quietly, earning a quick shake of the head.

“No, there's no need to apologise. You're fine, now,” Asseylum says, squeezing his hands, “Please have a safe journey back. Do come and tell me when you're cured?”

“Of course,” Slaine says, nodding again, “Please take care of Harklight and Elfa for me. I was going to tell them I was leaving, but..” He pauses, smiling somewhat sheepishly, “They looked like they were enjoying the ball.”

Asseylum only grins, releasing him. She watches as he takes a few steps backward, her hands now folded in front of her. “And, Slaine?” she calls, just as the blond is about to turn around.

“Yes?”

“Please continue enjoying yourself. You seem happier in the human world.”

Slaine blinks at that, confused. _Happier? There?_ he wonders, managing a final nod, _I don't believe I am, but if she says so.._ “Goodnight, your majesty.”

“Asseylum,” the empress corrects softly.

 _Right._ Slaine smiles, waving politely, “Goodnight, Asseylum.”

 

 

 

In all fairness, expecting someone as stubborn as Inaho Kaizuka to listen to a simple letter might have been a bit over-reaching in the faith department.

When Slaine finds Inaho sound asleep in the field where they first met, he is not surprised, but is still upset. “Are you _kidding_ me?” he whispers to himself, tone hurt.

He is not surprised, but he _had_ taken the time to write Inaho a letter to stay away from the forest.

 _Did he even get my letter?_ he wonders, taking a few steps forward to nudge Inaho's side with his foot; he does bother being all that gentle, annoyance replacing anger.

No response.

Inaho remains sound asleep in the grass, hands folded against his chest, clasped together. His breathing is much quieter now, now that Slaine is human-sized, almost a bit _too quiet._

Groaning softly in frustration, the faery rests his hands at his hips for a moment, bare foot tapping at the grass. He does not want to touch the brunet any more than he absolutely has to, wants to keep his hands to himself. He raises his head a bit, looking around the area, gaze settling on a tree. There are acorns scattered around its base, small, underdeveloped little things that.. “Ah..” Slaine smiles suddenly, a small, mischievous grin that pulls on the corners of his lips.

_Those will do nicely._

* * *

 

Slaine stays still as Inaho traces his thumb along his ear, noticing the curious gleam in Inaho's eyes. The young prince had requested to look at his ears, this time, having already studied his eyes and wings; his ears are one of the few things left that differentiate them. “Am I really that interesting?” he asks quietly, earning a small nod.

“I.. want to know more about you,” the brunet says, thumb lingering over the tip of Slaine's pointed ear. It feels soft under his thumb, soft and normal. Slaine's ear is normal, normal in the human sense, it just looks different, pointed, like an elf's.

“Oh.. erm..” Slaine hesitates, lightly biting his bottom lip. “More.. as in what?” he asks.

“Everything,” Inaho answers easily, “About.. who you are.. and about your culture, and about the fey..”

The blond tenses slightly, realising that Inaho is talking about the sarcastic answers he had given him before. About the fey, magick, and their government.. He hadn't lied to him completely, but he had not been truthful. “Do you..” He pauses, still staying still when Inaho gently cups his cheek instead, gazing at his eyes. “.. would you.. like to come to my realm with me?” he asks slowly, “I.. have to go back. I promised I would report when my condition improved, and..” _It's been three weeks, and I promised I'd tell her.._

Inaho nods eagerly, lighting up at the offer. “I would like that,” he says softly, smiling somewhat. Then, he nods again, and repeats just as softly, “I'd like that.”

“Alright, then..” Slaine gently places his hand over Inaho's, squeezing it gently, “Close your eyes. You don't want to get sick.”

Inaho does just that, shutting his eyes and going still.

“Keep them shut until I tell you to open them, okay?”

 

 

“Oh..” Moments later, Inaho feels a wave of dizziness hit him in spite of keeping his eyes shut. It sort of feels like he was suddenly pulled forward too quickly, head spinning, unsteady on his feet. That must be what it feels like to move through realms for someone who does not have the means to do so regularly.

“Inaho?” Slaine calls worriedly.

The brunet feels Slaine's hands on his shoulders, then on his face, trying to steady him. “That.. was..” His voice is soft, shaky. He finds his words caught in his throat, both feeling awed and shocked by the sensation. _Slaine does this regularly.._

“Bad?” Slaine offers, and though he is trying to be helpful, there is a playful edge in his voice.

Inaho ignores it and nods a bit, keeping his eyes closed.

“Ah, erm, you can open your eyes, now..”

He does, and freezes up almost instantly.

Standing before him is not the blond faery he had grown accustomed to, but instead the odd, redheaded boy he had seen last year, the one who was arguing with the city's residential witch.

“Wh.. what did you..–” he starts to ask, cut off by a gentle finger against his lips.

“Nothing,” Slaine whispers, shaking his head, “Okay? I'll explain later. I promise.” He pulls away a bit, pulling at stray strands of crimson red. His hair is the same shade as the bloody petals he had coughed up before, and the brunet cannot help but feel a bit sick at the comparison. The thought of Slaine coughing those up again upsets him, still, and he has yet to move past it completely.

He shrugs off the feeling, and nods a bit, shifting his gaze elsewhere.

Slaine's ears are still pointed, and his eyes are still that same beautiful blue-green shade Inaho has come to adore, even his figure is the same, but..

 _I'll have to ask later,_ Inaho thinks to himself, allowing Slaine to gently take his hand and start to pull him along.

 

 

 _Of course Slaine's home is beautiful,_ Inaho thinks to himself as he gazes around.

The sky is a mixture of oranges and pinks and reds, all mixed together like some sort of watered painting, and no clouds are visible. The sun hangs low in the distance, painted a kind of orange-pink itself, and it bathes the world in oddly coloured, unfamiliar light. The ground under their feet is lined with colourful, shimmering stones that look like they belong in mosaic art pieces in the west, and despite all the faeries Inaho has seen, the stones are not covered in any dirt or dust or pollen. They are clean, clear, and sparkle underneath Inaho's feet, and the prince can hear a soft sort of chiming sound as they walk; whether it comes from the stones or some other object, he is not sure. The faeries he has seen are all vastly different from one another, different shapes, sizes, different types of wings. One thing is consistent, however: most of them do not wear shoes, like Slaine; it must be some kind of aversion.

“Do you like it?” Slaine asks curiously, turning his head a bit to gaze at the brunet as they walk.

Inaho nods slightly, finding himself still a bit upset when he looks at the faery's hair; all he can think about are the crimson petals that had caused him pain. “It's.. beautiful,” he says after a moment, pushing the bad thoughts away.

“I'm glad..” Slaine breathes, relieved, “I would've been disappointed if you hadn't liked my home..” Their fingers are loosely laced together, warm palms pressed against the other, warmth gladly accepted with the slight chill in the air.

“.. so.. you.. grew up here, then?”

“Kind of. I grew up somewhere north of here, and moved here when I was around seven or eight,” Slaine answers with a small nod. His gaze is ahead of him, though the path is long and obscured with lush, green bushes, colourful autumn trees and varying amounts of foliage.

“Where are you bringing me?”

Tensing up at that, Slaine's grip unconsciously tightens on Inaho's hand. “I..” The words are hesitant on his tongue, but he _wants_ to tell him, _has_ to given their destination. “I need.. to talk to you, first. And.. and after, I'll tell you where,” he finally says, voice soft, careful.

“.. alright,” Inaho agrees, “Let's talk, then.”

“Not here. Somewhere private.”

 

A garden of some sorts.

Slaine had taken him to an odd field, this one full of mushrooms and dark, dark dirt that holds luminescent flower bulbs. They glow dimly around the edge of the garden, presumably due to the sun still being out, and a few lie scattered at the base of mushrooms the size of trees. The mushrooms look innocent enough, normal enough, some red with white specks, some white-yellow ones, and there are a few that are coloured a light brown with tops like coral.

The faery sits himself down on a large mushroom's top, and waits for Inaho to join him. “.. what?” he asks upon seeing the other's face.

“It won't break?” Inaho asks, gazing at the mushroom. It is large, sure, but it does not look all that sturdy. He is not sure how Slaine is even sitting on it right now, though he assumes it has something to do with his magick.

“It.. shouldn't break,” Slaine says after a moment, “Are humans heavier?” He looks and sounds confused, as if he had not expected this to be a problem. He runs his palm against the mushroom and presses it down a bit forcefully, leaving a light imprint; it springs back up after a second.

“We.. are,” Inaho answers, raising an eyebrow. _Implying that he and the other faeries are lighter than humans even in their human forms,_ he realises.

Slaine hums softly at the answer, gaze slipping to the mushroom again. Then, he allows himself to slide off of it, and sits himself down on the ground, “There. I'll get you a change of clothes before we leave.” He has come to realise that Inaho prefers not to get dirty unless necessary, though that is only because the guards at the castle would realise his whereabouts rather swiftly.

The brunet takes a few steps forward and folds his clothing under his knees, kneeling down in the dirt beside the other. The dirt is damp, cool, and he feels it easily sticking to his sandals and feet. _I'll have to wash these so they don't stain.._ he tells himself, gazing at the redhead. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Do.. do you remember when you asked me if we had a monarchy?”

“You gave me a sarcastic answer,” Inaho nods, the memory easy to recall. That had been the day Slaine had tried to hide his ailment, after all.

Slaine nods a bit, teal eyes narrowing. “Well, we.. we do. Have a monarchy, I mean,” he says slowly, “We have an empress, and.. a prince-consort.”

“.. alright,” Inaho murmurs, features hard to read. “Were you going to tell me that you're a prince?” he asks, watching as Slaine's eyes widen.

“How.. how did you..?”

“When you returned from the ball, you were wearing a circlet. A silver one, decorated rather ornately. I assumed you were someone important, or at least higher on the social rank than you were letting on,” Inaho explains, shrugging. “Given the way you treated me, I had assumed at first that you didn't care about my title. You spoke to me with little regard, nor do you seem to have any problems touching me.. But when you asked me if I would be interested in you if you were human, my answer seemed to upset you.”

“A.. prince shouldn't pursue a commoner so relentlessly,” Slaine murmurs, shaking his head.

“But you aren't a commoner.”

“I am. Not by the exact definition, but my title was bestowed upon me by the empress. I'm not a member of any royal family,” Slaine says, smiling somewhat. “I.. don't believe I'm on the same social scale that you are. Although, she said it didn't matter much; she said I was royalty regardless.”

“Even if you weren't born into it, you're every bit of royalty that I am, as well as your empress. I certainly don't care about your title,” Inaho says, reaching forward to cup Slaine's cheek, fingers hesitant to touch his red hair, “I'm going to marry you regardless. Though, you being a prince will certainly make things easier.” He smiles somewhat, watching as the redhead's cheeks darken.

“You really do have no shame,” Slaine mumbles, sighing softly.

“Is there anything else you wanted to tell me?” Inaho asks, hesitantly pushing Slaine's crimson hair aside to look at his ears again, “Are you going to explain your appearance?” Focusing on something other than his hair - his ears, his eyes - makes him less upset.

“Ah, erm..” Slaine nods a bit, “I.. did this so the others wouldn't recognise me.. they greet me formally, so..”

 _I see,_ Inaho realises, understanding now, _Then he wouldn't have been able to tell me himself. He wanted to tell me first._ “Are you going to change it back?”

“Would you prefer that?” Slaine asks, smiling playfully now, “You don't like redheads?”

Inaho frowns somewhat, saying quietly, “The red looks like the petals that hurt you.” He pulls away then, nails digging into his palm.

The faery blinks at the answer, completely caught off-guard by it. He had not even considered that, having chosen this look before any of this happened. “I'll change it,” he says after a moment, nodding a bit, smile turning gentle, understanding, “I'll change it, and then we'll go to the castle.”

“Thank you.”

Slaine opens his mouth to say something, though is stopped by a few quiet coughs. He covers his mouth with his hands, coughing into them. Blue petals peek out from between his fingers, blue petals that taste sweet in his mouth, against his lips, much sweeter than the crimson red ones that had plagued him but a few days ago.

“.. are you alright?” Inaho asks when Slaine pulls his hands away, revealing a handful of the delicate, blue things.

“Fine,” Slaine says honestly, smiling at the other, “These don't hurt.” He lets them float down to the ground, slowly, weightless in the wind, and very gently squeezes Inaho's arm. “Blue is perfectly safe,” he insists, earning a small nod this time.

Inaho dislikes that the effect will not go away, and had initially considered talking to the witch and coercing a remedy. He reaches up and pulls at the locket around his neck, nodding again. _Slaine is fine,_ he reminds himself, breathing out softly, _He's fine._

“Ready to go?” Slaine asks quietly, knowing that Inaho just has to get used to the petals being safe once more.

“.. yes,” Inaho says after a moment, “Let's go.”

 

 

Slaine gently presses his palms to Inaho's, as per the brunet's request to compare their hands. “Mine are a bit bigger,” he points out, earning a small nod.

They are sitting on his bed, Inaho now wearing an outfit that is a bit too large for him. The blond had tried to find the most human-like clothing he could, and they eventually decided something similar to a jacket made of wool and cloth pants was best; now, Inaho's sleeves reach past his hands and he is barefoot. The human prince had managed to calm down once they reached the castle, and seems more relaxed now that they are in what feels like a safe place: Slaine's bedroom.

“You're taller than me, so I assumed they'd be a bit bigger,” Inaho murmurs, his fingertips meeting just under the top segment of Slaine's fingers, the distal phalanx. “My skin tone is darker,” he says, raising his head a bit to find Slaine giving him a confused look.

“Do you get darker?” Slaine asks, “I've noticed that some parts of you are lighter than other parts.. like your neck..”

“We.. get darker, yes,” Inaho says after a moment, caught by surprise. He had forgotten that Slaine's knowledge is limited to faeries. “The longer we stay out in the sun, the darker we get. But only the areas of skin that are exposed.”

The blond hums at that, lacing their fingers together, “I see.. we don't darken in the sun..” His voice is soft as he gently squeezes Inaho's hands, watching as they flush pink for a few moments before returning to their darkened tan colour.

“Perhaps faeries have protection against the sun?”

“Perhaps,” Slaine muses, nodding somewhat, “I don't see why. It isn't very bright here, and most faeries actually prefer to stay here rather than the human realm.. Did I tell you we have a fifteen hour dusktime?”

Inaho blinks at that, taken by surprise. “Really?” he asks, earning a small nod, “You don't have any other time of day here?”

“We have an nine hour nighttime,” Slaine answers, “That's when we hold dances and parties.. speaking of that, we have to leave before then.”

“You don't want to dance with me?” Inaho asks, feigning offence; his dark eyes flicker upward playfully, easily catching teal.

“I'll dance with you if you _really_ want to, but not here – we can dance in your realm,” Slaine murmurs, smiling a bit at the brunet. He does not comment when Inaho gently kisses his knuckles, and his smile only softens when the other glances upward at him again.

“I'll have to ask Yuki-nee to throw a party so I can dance with you,” he says quietly, completely serious, “It'll be..–”

“Your.. highness..?”

“Slaine?”

Freezing up at the voices, Slaine goes stiff. If it were not for Inaho's grip on his hands, they would have fallen limply to the blond's lap.

The brunet turns his head to find two faeries standing near the doorway: a blonde in an elegant, white gown, and a slightly older looking faery behind her. The other faery has raven hair and an angry look on his face.

Stepping into the room, the blonde's heels click against the tile, almost too loud in the near-silent room. The fact that Slaine's room is large and sparsely decorated does not help; the clicks echo. “Are you Prince Inaho?” she asks upon reaching the foot of the bed, excitement shining in her green eyes. She leans against the wooden footing, fingers gently clutching at the decorated mahogany.

“.. yes,” Inaho says, gazing at her for a second. He has a guess as to who she might be, even if she is not wearing a circlet. “Are you the empress?”

“I am Empress Asseylum Vers Allusia, yes,” Asseylum hums, practically beaming now.

“Kaizuka Inaho,” the brunet offers, “It's a pleasure to meet you.” So he says, but his voice is almost monotone.

Slaine tries to pull his hands away from the human prince, frowning when Inaho only tightens his grip, a small smile playing on his lips. He does not want to be rude in Asseylum's presence, and wishes to be more modest, but.. it seems Inaho has no interest in letting him.

“I'm courting Slaine,” Inaho says bluntly, causing the blond's face to flush in embarrassment.

“Inaho..–”

“I assume you would have no problem if we were to marry?” At that, Inaho's smile softens and he gently squeezes Slaine's hands, pulling him closer, “I can promise I'll make him happy.” Why bother hiding his intentions? It would be better if the empress, Slaine's seemingly close friend, knew just what he intends to do, if not for the sake of honesty, then for the possible implications of their relationship.

“Of course not!” Asseylum says, shaking her head, “Of course you can marry Slaine. His happiness is our priority, as well, and if you are what makes him happy, I see absolutely nothing wrong with the two of you being together.”

Slaine lifts his head slightly, cheeks still painted a warm, refreshing pink. “Asseylum..” he murmurs, gaze flickering between her and the other faery, who is still in the doorway. His gaze lingers for a moment, and he says, just loud enough for him to hear, “I'm.. happy. Inaho makes me happy.”

The black haired faery's gaze slips, dark blue eyes narrowing.

Inaho's gaze flickers to the faery in the doorway, noting the slight frustration on his features. _He doesn't like me,_ he realises. “Who is that?” he asks the empress.

“That is Harklight. He is Slaine's aide,” Asseylum says, her own gaze shifting toward the doorway, “You may come in, Harklight. I'm sure Slaine wants you to meet the human prince.”

Harklight frowns slightly and manages a bow, face hidden by his dark bangs. “I'm afraid I have a prior engagement, your highness. Please, excuse me,” he says, tone low, careful. Though he dislikes the human, being outright rude would upset Slaine, as well as earn him reprimand from the empress.. though, he is only really concerned for Slaine's feelings.

Disappointment flickers across Slaine's features, just for a second, but he forces a nod. “Yes, of course. We.. we'll talk another time, Harklight. I hope to see you again, soon.” He manages a small smile, knowing full well how the older faery feels about this. He will definitely have to return and speak with him privately.

“I.. hope to see you soon, as well, your highness. Good evening,” Harklight says, slowly straightening himself. He is still for a moment before he disappears down the hallway, leaving the trio alone to continue their discussion.

The blond faery watches after him, and when he is no longer visible, he shifts his gaze back to the empress, who is looking at the doorway with a thoughtful look on her face.

“I should go, as well..” she murmurs, “I have to contact the musicians for tonight's party..”

“I don't want to keep you if you're busy,” Slaine says quickly, shaking his head.

Smiling warmly, Asseylum leans forward a bit to gently grasp their clasped hands in their own, gaze flickering between the both of them. “Thank you, Slaine. I am truly happy you have found happiness with each other,” she says softly, “I hope you will continue to visit. You are free to bring Prince Inaho here whenever you desire – I only ask that you watch his health if you intend on keeping him here for our dances. I wish you the very best.”

“Thank you,” Inaho murmurs, offering her a small smile.

“Thank you, your majesty,” Slaine says softly.

“Asseylum,” the empress corrects, earning a playful smile.

“Good evening, Asseylum,” Slaine amends, “And thank you.”

* * *

 

“Good morning, Slaine.”

Lifting his head somewhat, the faery finds himself gazing up at Inaho, who is standing a few feet away from him with a rolled up parchment in his hands. Slaine sits up slowly, gently rubbing an eye with the back of his hand, trying to wake up a bit more. “Good.. morning,” he says slowly, eyes on the paper, “What is.. what is that for..?”

Inaho has a small smile on his lips as he walks toward the other, murmuring, “I asked Yuki-nee to throw a party tonight. This is your invitation.”

Slaine blinks at the simple answer, taken by surprise. “.. are.. are you serious? It was that easy?” he questions, watching as the brunet sits down on the dewy grass beside him.

“I told her I had something of importance to announce. That was all I needed to say,” Inaho says, setting the parchment down on Slaine's lap, fingers lingering on the ribbon that keeps it rolled up, “You are, of course, my date.” His voice is soft, and the smile he wears shows just how eager he is for Slaine to meet his family and kingdom.

“It.. was truly that easy..?” Slaine whispers to himself, running his fingers against the parchment. No doubt it is written in the language he had tried to write in before, and he still cannot read it, so it would do no good to undo the ribbon. It would be best to keep it sealed until the guards have to read it and allow him inside.

“I rarely ask for things,” Inaho murmurs, catching Slaine's gaze, “You're coming, aren't you?”

The way he says it, it sounds like he already knows the answer.

“Of course,” Slaine mumbles, cheeks darkening somewhat. Inaho looks happy, and it is hard to refuse a request, especially since the brunet has met Slaine's own family. “I.. look forward to meeting your sister, Inaho,” he murmurs.

“And my friends,” Inaho adds, “They've been out of the country almost all year. They're returning this afternoon.”

His friends, who have no idea what Inaho has been up to this whole time, have no idea what they are returning to. _It'll be amusing,_ Inaho figures, smile softening when the blond nods somewhat. He sees his world now with rose-coloured hues, and he does not mind.

Slaine makes him happy. And he has every intention of making their relationship work, making both of their respective kingdoms better, if he can in the process.

“.. Inaho?” Slaine calls, gently gripping the parchment, “I.. am happy. Right now. And I'm.. looking forward to our future.”

“As am I,” Inaho returns, “I'm looking forward to it, too.”

 


End file.
